Wolf's Cry: Part II
by dontstop5546
Summary: Jessy isn't getting any better. The last round with Boris was too much. What will happen when she finds solace in the last place she expected to find it?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! I've finally got the first few chapters of Wolf's Cry Part II all typed up and ready to go! I hope you all enjoy. This takes place after G-Revolution.  
Please review! I want to know what you guys think!**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade. Only Jessy and Draiza.

 **Chapter 1**

I awake to the smell of coffee and pancakes. Even though my door is closed, the apartment is small and the walls paper thin. It's a far cry from the Russian apartment, that's for sure.

I sigh, momentarily lost in the past. When I can't take it anymore, I sit up. I'm already frustrated at myself, and the day has just begun.

I pad out to the kitchen in my bare feet and nod a hello at the gray-haired blader cooking breakfast. He nods back as he flips a pancake. I only come up to the middle of his back, so there's plenty of room for me to slip behind him in the small kitchen and help myself to some coffee. He reaches over and grabs the milk out of the fridge for me.

Once my coffee is perfect, I perch on one of the stools at the counter, which serves as a table. I push aside the stack of mail that waits patiently to be picked through and grab the morning newspaper.

By the time I finish the first section, breakfast is ready. A heaping plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon is set in front of me. I raise my eyebrows, surprised at the amount.

"Don't think I haven't noticed how many meals you've missed," Garland chastises me. "You're going to eat every bite of that."

I stare at him coldly, but it doesn't have much of an effect on him.

"You can bitch and moan all you want," he says casually. "You're not leaving this table until you eat."

I roll my eyes, frustrated once again, and resign myself to my fate.

 _How did I get to have such a pain-in-the-ass roommate?_ I ask myself silently. As I go over the memories in my head, suddenly I'm not so frustrated with his pseudo-big-brother act.

It's been six months since I found myself waking up in Garland's spare bedroom. Seven months since I left Russia.

I couldn't take the boys' guilt anymore. The boys' futile attempts to fill the silence that I could never break. Tala and I could communicate, but he was always worried about me. I was shipped from doctor to doctor, all of them reached the same conclusion: there was nothing physically wrong with me; I would speak when I was ready to. I tried telling him that I just needed time. That I just needed a little patience. I tried telling all of them that the words simply wouldn't come. That whenever I tried to speak, my demons would rear their ugly heads and grip my throat so tight I could barely breathe, let alone form words. I wrote it down for them, but it didn't seem to make a difference. They worried about me.

I had almost broken through the demons' chokehold at one point. And then Boris happened. Again. He came back into the public eye with BEGA. Just before seeing Boris on the television, I was preparing myself to say my first words, like a child who had learned to speak. And then his face appeared and the demons regained their hold over me.

I flew to Japan with my newly-named Blitzkrieg Boys. While they stormed into BEGA's headquarters, I froze at the door. I couldn't make myself go in. Ian stayed with me and walked with me back to the hotel. The pity in his eyes was too much to handle. I stayed in Japan with them, all the way until the end. When Garland put Tala in the hospital, I was next to him all day, every day. I just held his hand quietly. I told him fairytales in the only way I could. He said that those stories were the only things that kept him going.

When we returned to Moscow, I tried so hard to speak again. And the guys' pitiful looks only increased. After two full months of no progress, I couldn't take it anymore. I know Tala tried. He had better access to my mind than anybody else. And I know he tried. I hate myself for leaving him like that. Nothing but a note saying I needed to figure this out for myself.

I left them. I left my _family_.

The guys who had always looked out for me, protected me whenever they could. I owed my life to them on more than one occasion. They saved me. And I couldn't carry the crushing guilt any longer. I was not getting better. And they had suffered enough.

I flew back to Japan on a midnight flight.

I tried staying at Tyson's, but his constant need to fill the silence was overwhelming. Tyson is a nice guy, and we'll always be friends, but he never seemed to fully grasp the concept that I don't talk back. He would ask a question and then wait expectantly for an answer. I would just stare at the floor hopelessly until he stumbled on. After two weeks, I left.

I slept on a bench down by the harbor, where I used to train with the Bladebreakers so long ago. During the day I'd wander around Tokyo. Sometimes I'd visit local shops and try out the free samples. I had spent all of my money on the plane ticket, so the free samples were the only meals I had. I tried resorting to the trash cans, but I couldn't make myself eat what was clearly not for human consumption any longer. So I went without.

After two weeks of this, Garland found me. It was the middle of the night and pouring down rain. I had nowhere to hide, so I just sat on the bench and let the rain cleanse me. It was a little cold, but nothing compared to a Russian winter, so it didn't bother me.

"Are you lost?" I heard a familiar voice yell from a few feet away.

I turned to face him and recognized him from his televised battles a few months earlier. I shook my head.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked, stepping closer.

I stood up quickly, preparing to defend myself.

He held up both hands in surrender.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he told me. "I just want to help."

I eyed him coldly.

"Do you have anywhere to go? A safe place?"

After a few seconds of wary eye contact, I shook my head.

He studied the pouring rain around us carefully for a brief moment.

"Come on," he held out his hand to me. "Come back to my apartment. I promise I won't hurt you. I'll give you some dry clothes, maybe some food, and a warm place to sleep tonight. You can leave again in the morning."

I stayed where I was. He didn't know who I was. How could he? I never made myself known when he was a part of BEGA. He couldn't know that I was connected with Tala.

"Come on!" he pleaded. "I have a spare bedroom and I'll leave you completely alone if you want. Just let me help you!"

Why would this stranger want to help me?

After a century had passed, I finally moved towards him. I didn't take his outstretched hand, I simply walked past him. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I turned to give him an inquiring look.

He hesitated a moment, as if to make sure that I was actually going to go with him. I inclined my head slightly. One night, I vowed. One night with a warm meal and a safe, dry bed.

"Jessy, you're not eating," his voice startled me back into the present. "You've been staring off into space for a few minutes. Everything alright?"

His steel-gray eyes question me worriedly.

I shrug, then nod, and continue eating my breakfast. He hesitates before taking another bite.

"I'm going to the gym in a little while. Want to come with?" he asks.

I nod again, not looking up from my plate. A question pops into my head. I grab the notepad and pen that is meant for me.

 _What kind of workout?_ I write.

He tugs the notepad over to him with a quick flick of his wrist.

He grins as he responds, "Kickboxing, for me. But you're welcome to do what you please."

I nod again and continue eating. When I've finished as much of my food as I possibly can, I look at Garland again. He eyes my half-eaten plate and smirks in approval. He takes my plate from me and puts the scraps in a bowl, along with the bacon grease. When we leave, he'll leave the bowl in the back alley downstairs for the stray cats that like to scavenge there. He always makes sure to leave them something in the morning.

"I'll finish up the dishes if you want to shower first," he suggests kindly.

I give him a half-smile as we both rise from our stools. Out of everyone, he's the only one who doesn't seem bothered by the fact that I don't talk. He just observes me for whatever reaction and if it's something he can't just observe, he'll hand me a notepad and pen. He's got them stashed all over the small apartment and I know he carries one in his back pocket, as well.

Having Garland for a roommate isn't so bad. The bad part is the surmounting guilt I feel by being here. He injured Tala, so badly he had to be hospitalized. He still doesn't know that I am (was) close with Tala, but I know. And I also know that if Tala knew where I was staying, he would not be pleased. I try to brush that thought to the side because for whatever reason, being here is helping. The guilt I feel for being here and leaving the guys behind is nothing compared to the crushing guilt I felt as I constantly let them down, day after day. For whatever reason, being here is helping. And I just hope that when I finally see Tala again, he'll understand.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi again! I decided to just post what I have typed up so far. Please review and let me know what you think!**

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Beyblade. Just Jessy and Draiza.

 **Chapter 2**

I step out of the small shower onto the only rug that would fit in this tiny bathroom. Water drips onto the toilet as I peer at myself in the mirror. The mirror is rather small and I have to stand on my tiptoes to see myself properly. With my hair plastered to my head and my wide, dark eyes, I look like the ghost of someone I used to know. My face has thinned out, a little too much. Dark rings under my eyes reveal just how little sleep I am getting.

Mix that with the now-faded red marks around my neck that stand out against my pale skin, and I look like a zombie.

I sigh and look away. I begin to dry myself off, trying to avoid looking at what I knew the mirror wouldn't reach. The scars that mark my wrists from those chains. The jagged, uneven chunk of skin on my right thigh from the bullet. Countless scars and ridges sprinkled over my back and torso, generously doled out by the guards in the Abbey when I wasn't moving quick enough to suit them. The spider webs across my ribs and chest from countless kicks that broke the skin with military issued combat boots.

The physical scars alone are enough to make me ashamed. I put on a long sleeved black shirt that covers almost everything and a pair of black sweatpants. Black is still my color. After all this time, I feel like it would be pointless to change it.

The red in my hair is slowly fading out. It's turning silver in some places, a faint reddish-gold in others. Stress will do that. I brush my long hair out and then secure it in a ponytail at the base of my neck. I make sure enough of my bangs are hanging down to cover the scar. Three surgeries had put my cheekbone and broken teeth back together again. The doctors managed to make the skin look almost brand new. The only visible mark was from my temple to my jawbone, easy enough to hide.

I emerge from the bathroom and curl up on the couch, waiting for Garland's turn in the shower to be over with. I mindlessly flick through the channels on the small TV screen, finally letting it rest on an infomercial for carpet cleaner. I stare off into space until he re-enters the living room.

"You ready?" he asks, throwing on his jacket.

I stand up and turn off the TV. He grabs the bowl full of scraps on the counter and we leave.

The walk to the gym is quiet, as usual. It's about nine o'clock in the morning and most people are at work. I struggle to remember what day it is. Wednesday? Thursday? I don't know.

Walking with Garland is peaceful. He is a very observant person and likes to watch everything. He'll watch parents walk by with infants in their carriages. He'll notice the birds flit from telephone poles to statues to stop lights. He observes the stray cats scrounging for food in the dumpsters and garbage cans in dark alleyways. He sees it all.

Since it's a weekday, the gym is rather dead. A few stay-at-home moms run on the treadmills, but there is nobody else. Garland leads us into a smaller room, just off the main work-out area. He pulls one of the punching bags hanging from the ceiling over to his area. I grab his iPod from his gym bag and hook it up to the CD player. Rock music blares loudly, just the way I like it. I pull another punching bag over to my area and begin wailing on it.

After about twenty minutes or so of this, I am suddenly aware that Garland is no longer hitting his bag. Instead, he is leaning up against the wall, watching me.

I pause and make eye contact.

"Your center's off," he explains. "You're shifting too much to the right."

I know I am. I favor my right side more than my left because I still get aches in my right leg from time to time. He doesn't know that, though.

I nod, and try to adjust, knowing it's futile. Suddenly, he is standing beside me. I didn't even see him move. Without thinking, he puts his hand on my stomach. My breath catches in my chest as the darkness closes in.

"Keep the tension here," he instructs. "That way, you won't lose your center. Your center keeps your balance. Right now, I could push you over."

His breath tickles my ear and I step away, breaking contact. I feel my face burn as I nod, not looking up from the punching bag. I start hitting it again with renewed energy. He looks on for a bit, and then finally nods and goes back to his area.

I take a deep breath, steadying myself. After twenty more minutes, I decide it's time for a break.

I walk over to his gym bag and pull out two bottles of water. I toss one to him and gulp mine greedily. Water splashes down my chin. As I wipe it up, I watch Garland carefully.

He is very muscular. The tank top he wears is tight and defining. He could easily hurt me, if he felt the urge. I study him for a few more minutes, then look away as he catches me staring. I feel my face burn again, and decide it's time for a change of pace.

I leave the little room and walk over to one of the now-empty treadmills. I set the speed for moderate with no incline and start jogging. Once I am warmed up enough, I increase the speed a little bit at a time until I am practically sprinting.

After thirty solid minutes at this speed, I began to slow it down again. Ten more minutes, and I hop down.

Seeing as it's still dead in here, I roll up my sleeves and readjust my ponytail. Garland's eyes watch my every move. I glance over at him, and he looks away.

I know many questions burn in the back of his mind. I can tell by the way he stares at my wrists when they are visible, my neck when a certain light catches the scars, my face when I accidentally brush my hair away. He always looks away after a second, but the questions are there, nevertheless. He never prods, though.

The morning after that first night, he made breakfast, much like he did this morning. When we had finished eating, he suggested a walk around town. As we walked, he talked a little bit, telling me a little about himself so I wouldn't think he was a serial killer or anything. His words, not mine.

I knew he was a Siebald, I had seen that on TV. What I didn't know was what happened after the tournament. He went home, to his family, but they basically disowned him. He had left with every intention of making a name for himself. Instead, he had disgraced the great Siebald name. He was exiled, kicked out of his family. With nowhere else to go, he pleaded with the BBA to help him out. Mr. Dickinson set him up with the small apartment he was in and got him a job training children basic martial arts at the very gym we worked out in almost every day.

He gave up beyblading. Apollon now sat in a glass display case in his bedroom, beside his trophies and book of principles.

I don't mind not blading anymore. Draiza still hasn't returned and I have no desire to blade without her.

We continue working out for another hour or so, and then eleven o'clock hits and more people start to show up. Business men and women who want to get a workout in during their lunch. We pack up and head back to the apartment.

After we've changed, we sit on the couch and watch some TV. I sit on the right side; he sits on the left. This is routine. I have my side, he has his. The middle cushion is our neutral territory. A place for bowls of popcorn, remotes, candy, and random items that we need for the moment.

As we watch a documentary about lions in the savannah, I start to drift off.

When I wake next, the sun is lower in the sky and I have a blanket thrown over me. I recognize it as the one from my bed. I glance at the clock and it says three oh seven. Garland will have gone to work by now. I snuggle down under the blanket, stretching out on the couch, and doze off again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Beyblade. Just my character Jessy.

 **Chapter 3**

I jump awake as a clap of thunder startles me. I look around wildly, heart racing. Slowly, I come back to reality. The TV is off and there are delicious smells drifting from the kitchen just a few feet away. I sit up and stretch, letting the blanket pool around me.

"Well hello, Sleeping Beauty," Garland comments from his position at the stove.

I smile softly at him, still fuzzy from sleep.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he goes on. "But I figured since you were still sleeping, you probably hadn't eaten anything. And I was hungry, of course."

I glance at the clock on the wall. It's almost nine thirty. I decide to join him in the kitchen. He usually gets done at the gym by eight at the latest. He was probably waiting for me to wake up before he made noise in the kitchen. Obviously, when that wasn't happening anytime soon, he gave up waiting.

He would never say that kind of stuff out loud. For some reason, he worries that _he_ inconveniences _me._

"Have you been sleeping well lately?" he asks casually, his back still to me. He glances over his shoulder, giving me a knowing look, and I shake my head.

He pulls out a couple plates from the cupboard and says quietly, "You haven't been waking me up, either."

As he sets them on the counter, his steely gaze meets mine. It's impossible to hide from his look. I shrug and get up to grab silverware.

I glance into the pot on the stove. Spaghetti. When I turn around again, I can't hide my grin. Spaghetti has quickly become my favorite meal. We never had anything like it in the Abbey. And Garland's garlic bread is delicious.

"Atta girl," he cracks a grin as well. "You deserve to smile more."

I punch his shoulder lightly, feeling my face flushing, and sit back down.

We start eating in comfortable silence. A loud crack of thunder makes us both jump. I glance out the living room window and watch as the rain pelts the glass furiously, lost in my thoughts.

It's true I hadn't been waking him up lately. More often than not, I would just move out to the living room and watch TV until he got up in the morning. The nightmares had been especially bad lately and it seems like even sleeping, the demon that kept me from speaking prevented me from screaming or crying out, like I had in the past. Instead I would just lay there, paralyzed by sleep and unable to make a sound.

The first time I woke him up, it was another stormy night. When I finally wrenched myself from the nightmare, I couldn't make myself stay in my bed. Next thing I know, I'm standing just inside Garland's bedroom, watching him sleep peacefully. He had a fairly large bed and without thinking, I crawled into it beside him.

The movement woke him. He looked at me questioningly for a moment, and then scooted over to make more room for me. His light grey eyes held mine the entire time. He didn't touch me and I didn't move closer. I just curled up into a ball near the edge. We maintained our staring contest. He didn't say anything, but his look softened when I hugged one of his pillows to my chest, much like a small child does to a teddy bear.

He continued to watch me until my lids grew too heavy to keep open. His kind, steely gaze was the last thing I saw as I drifted off.

I awoke several hours later, when he was sleeping once more. I watched him sleeping so peacefully. He was on his side, facing me. His hair wasn't held back and it flowed everywhere, like a silver cascading waterfall. Carefully, I brushed some of the hair off of his face and smoothed it back. It was just as silky as I had imagined it to be.

He sighed in his sleep, almost as if the motion had soothed him. I pulled my hand back and studied him for a few more minutes. Eventually, I went back to my room.

And so it became another routine. I would have a nightmare and a few times a week, I would seek him for silent solace. I had grown accustomed to being comforted by Tala almost all of my life. To have anybody else pull me close would feel strange. But just having Garland's presence helped. I could get a few hours of rest, at least.

Lately, however, my nightmares were overwhelming. They were so intense, night after night, and even during the day if I managed to sleep. I didn't want to feel like more of a burden and disturb him every single night. So I started going out to the living room. It didn't help much. Once I would fall asleep out there, the nightmares would start again. It was a never-ending cycle. Some of them I remembered, some of them I didn't.

The ones I didn't remember were the worst. I would wake up absolutely petrified and completely disoriented for virtually no reason. I would be shaking and sweating and my breathing would be so heavy, I would have thought that I just ran a marathon.

"Hey," Garland nudged me gently. "You're doing that thing again."

I blink, coming back to myself. It's scary how lost I become in the past.

"What's your favorite color?" he asks me randomly.

I stare at him for a moment, surprised by the question. He nudges a notepad over to me. I pick up a pen and write _Red_. He glances at it and then laughs. I give him a puzzled look.

"I would have never guessed with as much black as you wear," he chuckles.

I write _Red=Fire_.

His mouth forms an O.

"Why do you like fire?"

I hesitate. He doesn't know that I used to beyblade. I debate on telling him.

"Come on, you can tell me," he says kindly, sensing my hesitation.

 _My bit-beast's element was fire,_ I scribble.

I look down at what remains of my dinner, avoiding his sharp gaze. I'm not hungry anymore. I stand and put the rest in the designated scrap bowl.

"I didn't know that," he finally responds. "Did you ever participate in any tournaments?"

I shake my head, my back still to him. I focus my eyes on the faucet and stare fixedly at it.

"What happened?" he asks softly.

I continue to stare at the faucet, willing my burning eyes to keep their composure. I shake my head again, unable to answer.

Once I am sure no tears will fall, I turn to face him again. My dark eyes meet his coldly.

"Okay," he puts his hands up in surrender. "We won't go there. It's fine. I was just curious. None of my business."

He shakes his head and picks up his now empty plate. He walks over to the sink, accidentally brushing against me. I jump back, slamming my head into the corner of the cabinet above me.

I whimper as my hands come up automatically to rub the sore spot. Garland leans over, dishes forgotten, to inspect my head. My breath catches in my throat as he comes closer. He reaches out one of his hands and I jump back again, eyes wary. I stare at him in fear until he pulls his hand back.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he says gently, like he's talking to a wounded animal. _But you are a wounded animal_ , I remind myself.

"I just want to make sure the damage isn't too bad," he murmurs.

I pause as he draws near once again. My eyes never leave his face. Fear pulses through me, but I try to hold still as he inspects the back of my head. His hand brushes softly against the bump forming and I move away. The darkness is already creeping over me.


	4. Chapter 4

**Alright this is the last upload for the night! I hope you've all enjoyed! There will be more up soon. As always, please let me know what you think.**

 **Disclaimer:** I do not own Beyblade. Just Jessy.

 **Chapter 4**

 _Tala,_

 _I miss you. I know that doesn't make up for how I left, but I do. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I left you guys like that._

 _This letter has been hard to write. I must have started it a thousand times. It seems I'm still having troubles finding the words, even on paper. But I'm going to try. I'm going to be honest with you._

 _You guys can't help me. I'm not sure what can, but it has to be up to me. I am the maker or breaker of these chains. And as much as you guys want to help, you simply can't._

 _I have to fix myself._

 _The words still don't come. I'm still not talking, but I'm getting better. I've found a friend and I know it'll hurt you to read this, but they make it a little easier right now. You're too close to the situation. Sometimes, it's better to be around someone who is a little more removed. I hope that makes sense._

 _Please understand, I don't mean to hurt you. I just want you to know that I'm doing better and I'm not all alone._

 _I'll come home soon, I think. I hope. I only pray that you guys will still be there when I make it back. I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It's still further away than I'd like, but I think I can manage to reach it._

 _Please wait for me._

 _Jessy_

* * *

I nudge Garland's arm to get his attention. I had been writing at the counter for a few minutes while he watched TV. I showed him my notepad.

 _Envelope? Stamp? Please._

"Sure thing," he comments, standing. He goes into the kitchen and reaches above the fridge, where I'm too short to see. He hands me what I need and sits back down, eyes transfixed on the TV screen. I smile at his boyish enthusiasm for the soccer game that's playing.

As I put my letter to Tala in the envelope and lick it close, I send a silent prayer that he is okay. I write down the address but leave the return address blank. I know the letter will be postmarked Japan, confirming what I'm sure Tyson has most likely told him by now. But there's not much I can do about that.

Trying to shake off the guilt that ensues whenever I think of my best friends, I head out of the apartment. I opt for the stairs and make my way down the three flights to the mailboxes next to the entrance. I drop my letter in the outgoing mailbox and turn to leave.

A name catches my eye.

 _Hiwatari_.

I freeze, trying to rationalize what I'm seeing. In this building? Apartment 504. Two floors above us. Surely it's not _Kai_. How common is the last name Hiwatari? I don't think it's very common.

Garland said the BBA set him up in this apartment. Perhaps they set up Kai here as well? Maybe this building is used for the BBA's purposes. I scan the other names but I don't see any I recognize, other than Siebald. Doesn't really mean anything to me, though. I've never been in a tournament. How would I know any names? So there could be other bladers here and I'd never know.

I guess it shouldn't surprise me that I've never notice the names on these. I don't really pay attention to them when I come down in the morning to check the mail.

But _Kai_. If he was here, had he noticed me? I climb the stairs uneasily, recalling every resident in the building that I had seen. I rack my brain but can't picture anybody resembling Kai in any way.

I enter the apartment in a daze. After checking up and down the hallway, I close the door firmly and lock it.

"Something wrong?" Garland calls from his position on the couch. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

I shake my head and meet his flinty gaze. I shake my head once more and quickly make my way to my room.

~~~Two weeks later~~~

I am always paranoid now, even more than I used to be. Every time we leave the building, I glance over my shoulder and up and down the corridors. Once we are on the sidewalk, I glance up to the fifth floor. The curtains don't move and no figures hover in the windows. Nothing.

I know Garland has noticed my increased anxiety. He hasn't commented on it, but I've often caught his worried looks. He seems to be even more protective of me now, if that was possible.

It is possible that he already knew Kai was here, so he could be paranoid about that. But he still has no reason to connect us to each other.

A blessing in disguise is that I can't talk. My Russian accent is pretty heavy, so it's good that I can't speak. When we write, it's in Japanese. Given my limited knowledge of the language, I just stick to the basics. Colors. Numbers. Household items. Food. My knowledge comes from Kai, of all places. He taught me back in the Abbey. The Bladebreakers expanded upon it a little bit when I was there as well. I can understand most of what Garland says. Sometimes he talks so fast that I get overwhelmed, but for the most part, I think I've got it down.

But I dream in Russian. Part of me craves to hear an accent, a voice. I crave my home country, my boys, Tala.

But I can't go home. Not yet. The fear of letting down my brothers and Tala again; the guilt of not getting better, when they've given so much to me. Some of that needs to be worked through before I can return.

Garland helps. He doesn't even know how much he helps. He's protective, sure. But he's also extremely accepting. I don't talk. I have nightmares. Loud noises scare me. He just takes it all in stride and lets me be. No questions, for the most part. He seems to know the ones to avoid, anyway.

A good example of this acceptance is right now. We are sitting on our respectful sides of the couch, eating take-out and watching a movie. He let me pick the movie, so I picked a Disney film, "Oliver and Company." He raised his eyebrows and smirked a little when I held it up, but then he just nodded and popped it in. He seemed to understand that I needed this. The gentleness and simplicity of a Disney film is just what I need to soothe my nerves.

He doesn't have to work tonight. It's a Friday and he's got the weekend off. So movie night, a regular event when there's nothing else to do. He has a pretty extensive DVD collection, so I only feel slightly embarrassed at my choice, considering it _is_ in his repertoire.

Seeing Kai's name really has me shaken up. It brought me back to reality when I have tried to remove myself from it for so long.

By the time the movie is over, I realize I hadn't paid attention to it at all. Too lost in my thoughts.


End file.
